fumbled at the helmet strap but managed it, pulling the helmet off to fluff up her hair. Then she got a good look at the view and faltered, her eyes widening.
“The Jemez Mountains,” he said, hooking his helmet over a handlebar as he dismounted and moving up behind her to point out the distant range, his arm over her shoulder where it felt like it belonged. “The Rio Grande Valley. Albuquerque, if you squint.” Not to mention the swatches of golden aspen against the dark green of the predominant ponderosa pines, Sangre de Cristo fall drama in all its glory.
She leaned back into him; maybe she didn’t even realize it.
Ian realized it. Boy, did he realize it. He cleared his throat. “There are a handful of trails leading out from this overlook—including one that goes into the Pecos wilderness.” He nodded eastward, and her hair tickled his chin. “If you’d like—if you have some hiking shoes—we can come again, and hike out into the aspens.”
A car drove past, slowing for the overlook...not stopping. When the sound of its motor no longer hummed among the trees, Ana pulled away from him—turning to face him, her hand touching her pocket as if it steadied her...her expression a little wary.
“Why?” she said.
He grew still inside, understanding the danger of taking this question lightly. “Because it’s beautiful, and I’d like to share it with you.”
She turned away, looking out over the sprawling vista of forest and valley and distant ranges rising anew.
Ian tapped a pattern against his thigh. “Hey,” he said, resisting the impulse to close the space between them. “If I misread the situation, no worries. We drive back down the mountain, you head off to the rest of your vacation, and we still had a good ride together in amazing country.”
He could hardly believe himself. Not when he wanted to—
Except it didn’t matter what he wanted, if she didn’t. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t have work to do, no matter his orders and Fernie looking over his shoulder. Until he cracked the secret of the silents, they were all at risk. High risk.
He hadn’t come near to convincing himself when she said it again. “Why?”
This time, he realized what she was asking—but not before she turned to look at him, searching his expression as she added, “You don’t even know me.”
He suddenly felt off balance. “That’s how it usually starts,” he said. “By meeting. And liking. And wanting more.” Who could not? And not just because of her delicate beauty, or the natural color of her lips against the glow of her complexion, or the way she wore that ill-fitting jacket that made it perfectly clear what curves lurked beneath—although his body responded to those things readily enough.
No, it was more about the complexity waiting behind her eyes, calling out the puzzle lover in Ian. One moment laughing, the next turned inward, and always—always—a shine of vulnerability. As if she simply waited for someone who could figure her out.
It was the way she made him feel. Moments of peace and inner quiet.
She must have seen something on his face. Her expression turned suddenly fierce. “I don’t need saving from being alone, if that’s what you think.”
Ian made an impatient sound. “That’s not what this is about.” He closed the distance between them then, reaching out to cradle her head and thread his fingers through her hair—holding but not constraining, and watching her eyes go wide while her body stiffened inside the ridiculously large jacket.
But then she relaxed, those eyes still huge and not so much wary as uncertain—waiting. Learning, he would have said, as he leaned down to her. Her hands rose to brush against his forearms as if they didn’t know what else to do, but her mouth...it rose to meet his. And when he kissed her, she kissed him back—a gentle thing, as uncertain as the rest of her could be.
He wooed her with that kiss, making it light and teasing, just a touch of tongue along her lips and a touch of nibbling tooth. Keeping it light in spite of the instant fire licking along his skin and settling heavily in his groin.
Maybe he trembled faintly—maybe it was just the breeze stirring her hair. Either way, Ian knew his limits, no matter how it surprised him to hit them so soon. He stroked the fine line of her cheekbones with his thumbs and lifted his mouth from hers, unbending himself into his full height.
Another car drove past, slowing dramatically until it moved past the vista. Ana closed her hands around his wrists, holding his hands where they cupped her head, and lifted her gaze to his—luminescent brown eyes that caught him as securely as the warmth of her fingers. “But how do you know this is what you want?”
He instantly sensed this wasn’t about fishing for compliments. He hunted for truth.
“For sure?” he said. “You don’t. You just believe. You feel, and you follow it. The rest either comes or it doesn’t.” He slid one hand around to the back of her neck and lifted slightly, changing her balance just enough so she stepped forward, bringing them together in the most unmistakable way. His other hand slid down to the small of her back, absorbing every inch of the curves along the way and stopping just above the round swell of her bottom.
No way would she miss all the evidence of his response to her, from the tension in his body to the distinct erection so uncomfortably trapped by his jeans.
She drew a sharp breath, and her hands tightened on his arms—at least until he laughed, just a short huff of amusement. “Breathe,” he advised her, and brushed his cheek against hers. “If you faint, I’ll never figure this out.”
At that, she stepped back, brushing her hand over the pocket he’d decided held her phone. “Figure what out?”
“Whether you want me, too,” he said as matter-of-factly as anyone could. “Because I don’t want yes. I want hell, yes.”
Finally, she laughed. “Either way, we’re not getting back on that motorcycle until you’re a little more relaxed, are we?”
“No,” he said, and grinned. “We certainly are not.”
She scraped windblown hair from her face. “You don’t doubt yourself much, do you?”
He shrugged, his peripheral vision catching yet another car on approach. “All the time,” he told her. “But I don’t fear the doubt.”
Failure was another story. He could sell her nightmares about failure.
“You know,” she said, “you’re right. You knew it, didn’t you? Meeting. Liking. Wanting more. Yes, I’d love to go on a hike with you while I’m here. Yes, I feel...and I want to follow it.”
This grin came along with a slow burn of warmth—a spot inside himself that made itself quiet long enough for him to feel the simple pleasure of the moment.
But damn, it didn’t do a thing for his ability to hop back on that bike.
The approaching car slowed enough so he thought it might stop, then moved on. Gawkers, he decided, fully aware of the moment they’d interrupted.
At least, he thought it right up until he felt the unmistakable taint of
